Love Would Burn This City Down For You
by itsbrittanyann
Summary: This was never supposed to happen. The mission had gone all wrong. But whether or not it was for the better has yet to be seen..
1. Chapter 1

_Natasha POV_

* * *

Budapest, the Pearl of the Danube. And what a pearl it was. New technology meshes with the old world charm to create the perfect atmosphere for both business and pleasure seekers alike. This was just like any other mission and yet it turned into something completely different. I'd betrayed the love of my country as well as the love of my deepest friend Ivan to become the one thing I never imagined I would: a Western hero. And for what? All for the love of an American? Apparently so.

* * *

_3 Days Earlier_

The mission was simple. Take down the American ambassador and retrieve the files from within his office. As for what those files contained I had no idea, but I can only assume that whatever it was, was of grave importance to the motherland, and I wouldn't _dare_ question it.

The plane skids to a halt, and like every other passenger aboard it, I stand to grab my carry-on bag from the overhead compartment. There is no need for a suitcase, a simple duffel will do. After all, I will not be here long. Stepping out of the plane and down the passageway, copper curls bounce against my shoulders with each stiletto'd step and keen eyes sweep from side to side once I emerge into the terminal. I was expecting to be greeted by my own personal driver. I'd protested this bit, but the Red Room insisted. Who was I to argue? They'd set up this entire trip and even transferred my weapons to my hotel room to make my trip on the plan much easier.

"Ms. Romanoff," spoke a voice from behind.

I turn gracefully on the balls of my feet to face the man, a polite smile gracing my features as I take the sight of him in. He's rugged at first glance, with scars that cover one side of his face. I'm assuming a knife or something of the sort created those specific wounds, though the pepper-colored stubble does its best to conceal it. My guess is that he's in his 50's or so, possibly even seen war with his battle scars.

"I assume you are to be my ride?"

With the kind smile staying in place, I reach out a hand to shake the man's when he introduces himself as Antov Frederick. My hand silently drops back down to my side when he motions with his own for me to follow him, to which I oblige.


	2. Chapter 2

_Clint's POV_

* * *

The view from the clouds was calming in a sense. It helped keep me focused on my mission. But then again, I've always had an affinity for heights. I watch as the plane lowers to the ground until the familiar sensation of landing gear meeting pavement can be felt. It's now that I lazily look ahead to the petite red-head seated two rows ahead of me. On the surface she seems relaxed, though I'm sure that she's _more_ than aware of her surroundings. As the plane comes to a stop at its designated boarding zone, I rise from my seat and make a move towards the overhead compartment, to which she's already near. Our hands reach up simultaneously to grab our own luggage once the compartment's door lifts up. With a swift response, the woman pulls her hand down and away quickly. I'd expected this reaction of course, after all, I _did_ read her file.

Natasha Romanoff; the _original_ Black Widow. Born into similar circumstances as myself, though raised completely different.

She smiles apologetically and motions to the bags overhead.

"I'm sorry. Go ahead."

With a chuckle, I grab both bags, handing Ms. Romanoff hers. We exchange a brief goodby, and I fall behind as she makes her way out of the plane along with the rest of the passengers. I couldn't get too close, not yet. She'd surely get suspicious. Now carrying my bag I exit out of the plane and make my way to the terminal. It isn't difficult to spot the infamous Black Widow through the crowd. Like her namesake, the red gives her away.


	3. Chapter 3

_Natasha's POV_

* * *

For this occasion the Red Room placed me in the Parisien Apartment, a short walk in relation to the U.S. Embassy, and as expected, the drive from the airport goes off without so much as a hitch. Once the car rolls to a stop in front of the front entrance I lift a hand to signal that I am perfectly capable of carrying my own bags. Antov only nods his head in response while his left hand reaches forward to tug on the trunk release to pop it open. In one graceful move I exit the car to retrieve my belongings.

Gripping the handles of my luggage in a firm grip, I tilt my head upwards to get a better view of my temporary residence while my free hand lifts to shield my eyes from the sun's rays. My eyes sweep lazily over the stucco exterior, taking in the multi-colored paint job with a skeptical brow. If the interior was anything like the outside then I am in for quite the experience. As instructed before my departure to Budapest, I lift up the lid of the small black mailbox that adorns the front wall just besides the front door. I reach inside to retrieve the small key from the bottom of the metallic box, eyeing up the small and intricate detail of the key. It's old, just like the city, but a fond smile overcomes me as I palm the tiny piece of molded metal.

Deciding not to waste any more time, I move over to the door and slip the key into its designated slot to unlock the door. Hearing the familiar click of the deadbolt I pull the key out to slip it into my pocket before I bring a hand up to press my palm flat against the wooden door to push it open. It's obvious by the musty smell that this apartment hasn't been used in quite some time, and my suspicions are only confirmed by the small cobweb that hands loosely from a nearby lamp. I extend an arm outwards at my side to flick on the lights, the artificial rays lighting up the remainder of the room to reveal a barely furnished room and hardwood floors that lead into a kitchen and set of stairs. This would be home for the next few days, or less depending on how my mission went. But until I'm able to scout out the embassy, it's time to unpack.


End file.
